


Luxuria (Fornicatio)

by sorrowfulcheese



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/pseuds/sorrowfulcheese
Summary: Aziraphale wakes and wants cake. Crowley wakes and wants Aziraphale. Very tender smut ensues.





	Luxuria (Fornicatio)

  
Crowley stretched indulgently, inhaled and exhaled and opened his eyes just a crack. The room was still dark. He shut his eyes.  
  
He'd been dreaming again. It wasn't usual for angels or demons to dream, even when they did sleep; they didn't tend to have the imagination. But then, he wasn't the average demon, was he?  
  
And this dream had been delectable, all about _him_, all tangled up in warm damp sheets and Aziraphale's soft arms and legs and their bellies pressed together—  
  
Crowley rolled to his side and stretched his arms out to Aziraphale's side of the bed, but Aziraphale was not there. His spot was still warm; he had not been gone long. Crowley slid into the warm spot and waited. And waited. The bed began to cool down, and he didn't want to go back to sleep right now.  
  
He hissed in annoyance, slid out from beneath the fluffy covers—the excessively comfortable bedding had been Aziraphale's choice, of course, though Crowley had put his foot quite _firmly_ down regarding any floral prints—and in his stockinged feet padded out of the bedroom.  
  
He found Aziraphale in the kitchen, standing before the window with his back to the door, his head and shoulders bathed in the faint moonlight that shone through. It gave his tousled hair the semblance of a halo, and Crowley felt suddenly giddy inside. He stood watching for a moment before he crossed the room to slide his arms around Aziraphale's middle and rest his chin on his shoulder. Entirely unfazed, Aziraphale leaned comfortably back against him and continued to eat what was left of a generous slice of cake.  
  
"You're _eating_," Crowley accused him.  
  
"Oh," Aziraphale said carefully around his mouthful. "Yes. I woke a little peckish." He licked cream from his thumb. "I can't thank you enough for bringing it home, it's precisely what I needed."  
  
"Ngh."  
  
"I hope I didn't wake you, dear." He took another bite of the cake.  
  
"Only by leaving me alone. In bed." Crowley swayed a little and Aziraphale moved with him.  
  
"I really am sorry. I was hoping to get back before you noticed, but then I looked outside and saw—" He gestured to the window. "The moon is so lovely, don't you think? It turns the whole garden to silver."  
  
"I know what the moon looks like," Crowley assured him, and moved around Aziraphale to face him, fastened his arms once more around his middle. "Now, you just go on eating your snack, and looking at the moon." He leaned down and dropped a quick little kiss on Aziraphale's mouth. "I'll just stand here and watch _you_."  
  
Aziraphale's cheeks turned pink. "Are you flirting with me, you old serpent?"  
  
"No more than you are with me, out here eating cake in the moonlight."  
  
Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, shut it again, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Truly, dear, I can never figure out just how your mind works." But he was smiling, and reached between them to break off a piece of cake. "Would you like some?" He offered it up, his expression sweeter than the treat.  
  
Crowley took it between his teeth, snaked it into his mouth with his tongue. "Thank you, Angel. I'd really rather watch you."  
  
"I still don't see what's so terribly exciting—"  
  
"Angel," Crowley told him, "you just enjoy it." He resumed his slow dance, side to side, as Aziraphale methodically demolished the cake and fastidiously licked every last crumb and bit of cream from his fingers.  
  
Crowley kissed him then, nudged Aziraphale's lips open with his tongue, and his knees weakened at the pleasured sounds Aziraphale made into his mouth, at the way Aziraphale held fistfuls of his vest. He slid his hands up beneath Aziraphale's pyjama shirt, flattened them over the warm skin of his back, drew them down his sides and tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of Aziraphale's trousers.  
  
With a soft slurp he pulled away and smiled wickedly at the faint glow of desire behind Aziraphale's eyes. "Shall we take it back to the bedroom," he wondered, "or do you want to do it right here?" He nodded toward the table.  
  
"How terribly _vulgar_."  
  
"Mm, definitely." Crowley licked his lips. "Bedroom, then," he decided. "Don't want to be vulgar in our own home." He bent his knees, grasped the backs of Aziraphale's thighs and lifted him swiftly. Aziraphale laughed, locked his ankles behind Crowley's hips and balanced himself with a hand on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley grinned up at him, patted his bottom with his fingers, turned to head back to the bedroom. "You should get another piece of cake," he suggested.  
  
"I can't have cake in _bed_, it'd _crumble_."  
  
"That might be a problem," Crowley agreed. "Just not one for _me_."  
  
"So inconsiderate," Aziraphale accused him, pressed both hands to Crowley's cheeks and kissed him, loving.  
  
Crowley was not sure how he made it into the bedroom without looking; nevertheless he did, and he lay Aziraphale down on his back in the middle of the bed. Aziraphale drew up his knees, folded his hands over his chest and watched him with a happy little smile.  
  
"You," Crowley said, and tapped his nose. "_You_ are inconsiderate, sneaking out there to eat cake without telling me." He straightened and eyed Aziraphale appreciatively, all angelic warmth and affection wrapped in silk pyjamas, unself-conscious despite his undignified position. Crowley liked the implication of trust.  
  
"You were sleeping," Aziraphale reminded him. "You _like_ to sleep. I didn't want to wake you."  
  
"I like to watch you eat cake, too. Let's get rid of these," Crowley said, and with a snap of his fingers Aziraphale's pyjamas were gone. "Much better." He leaned down for another kiss.  
  
"Mm," Aziraphale said, when he had pulled away again, and gestured to Crowley. "And what about yours?" He looked hopeful.  
  
"As you wish, Angel." He straightened, vanished his clothes; Aziraphale looked him up and down admiringly and a flush rose over his chest. Crowley rested his hands loosely at his hips, and grinned. "Like what you see?" he wondered.  
  
"Of course," Aziraphale said. "You're really quite beautiful."  
  
"Oh, I knew you only loved me for my body," Crowley said, aggrieved. "Well, let's get on with it, then." He climbed up on the bed, grabbed Aziraphale's foot and lifted it to his mouth. Aziraphale giggled and his toes curled as Crowley kissed each one in turn.  
  
He kissed his way up Aziraphale's leg, nibbled at the tender skin of his inner thigh, and delighted in the dulcet sounds that Aziraphale made as he progressed, little notes of pleasure whenever he touched a particularly sensitive spot. Crowley took his time, made sure both legs were thoroughly damp with kisses before he worked his way up to Aziraphale's soft belly, his chest, his arms. He closed his teeth gently at Aziraphale's wrist, the smooth skin of his inner elbow, wished that Aziraphale was not so vain as to make every little bruise vanish before morning. He longed to see his angel wake slow, covered in love marks, as the rising sun shone through the bedroom window.  
  
Aziraphale lifted his hips against him, his arousal evident against Crowley's own. Crowley dipped his head to bite Aziraphale's neck, harder than necessary. Aziraphale inhaled and threaded his fingers through Crowley's hair.  
  
"Really, now," he breathed. "One would think you intend to devour me."  
  
"Like to," Crowley murmured against his skin, and licked the spot he'd bitten. "Head to toe. Very nice snack for _me_."  
  
Aziraphale laughed. "You'd sleep for a while after that," he said, and guided Crowley's head up for a kiss.  
  
"Mm, yesss." He ducked his head back down to bite the other side of Aziraphale's neck. Aziraphale's hands wandered down his body, supple fingers leaving trails of growing heat on Crowley's skin. Crowley ground his hips involuntarily, forced himself to calm and took a deep breath. "Angel?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Turn over for me?" He slid down the bed to make room. Aziraphale wasted no time, twisted himself about and happily presented his backside. Crowley slithered between his legs, gave both cheeks a gentle squeeze, leaned down to bite each one in turn, pressed his face between them and drew his tongue the full length of its reach. Aziraphale squeaked and shuddered and said something Crowley could not quite hear.  
  
He thrust his tongue inside, held Aziraphale's thighs firmly apart, licked and nibbled until he could feel the entire bed start to shake. He magicked up a handful of lubricant and slid his palm beneath Aziraphale's hips, wet and warm, and let Aziraphale spend himself in a series of rapid thrusts into his fingers. Pleased, Crowley withdrew his hand gently, licked and kissed his way up Aziraphale's spine. He kissed the back of Aziraphale's neck, bit him again, watched the rise and fall of his body as Aziraphale regained his breath. Crowley lifted his hand and licked it clean, felt his groin respond to the scent and taste of Aziraphale's seed.  
  
"Angel," he said.  
  
"Mm. Yes?"  
  
"I really want to fuck you."  
  
"Oh, darling," Aziraphale sighed. "Please _do_."  
  
Crowley smiled and slid back to his knees, spread Aziraphale's legs with his thighs and conjured another handful of lubricant. He let it drip a little on himself, used the rest on his fingers to very gently work Aziraphale open. He was so warm, so pliant, fairly purring with pleasure here in his lavish bed with a demon about to violate his person, and Crowley wondered if the Almighty was watching. Wondered if, indeed, the ineffable bureaucracy of Heaven was scandalised by how often the Guardian of the Eastern Gate had allowed himself to be energetically ploughed by the Serpent since the two of them had moved to this nearly invisible village in the south.  
  
If any of them cared, he supposed, someone would have done something about it by now. He gripped Aziraphale's hips and pulled him up a little, eliciting a joyful gasp; he slid in without preamble, sank himself as deep as he could possibly go, and closed his eyes, savouring the heat, the tight clasp of muscle around him, and Aziraphale's breathy declarations of love.  
  
No, Heaven would not intervene. Nor would Hell, for that matter.  
  
Crowley held tight to his angel's hips, slid out just a little bit, then began a gentle rocking rhythm that would not permit him to last long. Aziraphale's soft cries, his body's delightful responses to Crowley's cock inside, and his own adoration of his angel brought him to climax in a very few minutes.  
  
When his body had finally stopped throbbing he exhaled, leaned down to kiss their mingled sweat from Aziraphale's back. He withdrew carefully, but Aziraphale still made a small sound, and Crowley pulled him about so they lay facing one another. "All right, Angel?" he murmured, as they kissed one another's mouths and chins and noses. He caressed Aziraphale's cheek, his shoulder, his arm. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"  
  
"Oh, darling," Aziraphale said, and slid his hand up to stroke Crowley's hair. "Never. It was absolutely _splendid_, as always." He squirmed close so their damp bodies were pressed tightly together, slid one leg between Crowley's. "And for you? You didn't take much time for yourself."  
  
"Mm." Crowley gestured and the newly-dry blankets settled over them both. "Fast and often," he reminded him. "That's how I like it."  
  
"One day, you should allow me to show you how scrumptious slow can be."  
  
"If you want to, Angel," Crowley said, and draped his arm over Aziraphale's middle. With his thumb he stroked the small of Aziraphale's back. "I like taking care of you."  
  
"And you do it _extremely_ well." Aziraphale wriggled in that way he had when thinking of something pleasurable. Crowley stifled a smug retort.  
  
"Do you want to get up? Out of the bed, I mean." He hesitated. "I don't mind if you do," he lied.  
  
"Oh, no, no," Aziraphale assured him. "I want to stay here with you. Even if I don't sleep." He smiled, so fondly it made Crowley's chest tighten. "I'll try not to wake you again."  
  
Crowley kissed him one more time and Aziraphale closed his eyes. In only a few moments his breath was even, his entire body relaxed. Crowley closed his own eyes and willed himself to dream again.


End file.
